


I am LORD Voldemort

by limeta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Gen, Period Typical Bigotry, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Trans Male Character, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeta/pseuds/limeta
Summary: ''Name him Tom, after his father - and Marvolo after mine.''''Ma'am, it's a girl.''Merope shook her head: ''No.''16 years later:I am LORD Voldemort''Fuck, my mum was right.''
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle
Comments: 9
Kudos: 190





	I am LORD Voldemort

Merope Riddle died giving birth to a son. ''Name him Tom Riddle, after his father – and Marvolo, after mine. Please.'' The world shifted as a veil of blackness overcame her; only vaguely could she hear as the Matron tried to say something. She sounded dejected.

''Ma'am, you have a daughter.''

Merope shook her head. There was a buzz in her ears and she couldn't see anything anymore. Breathing became difficult (not that it hadn't been before, really) and she drifted, only managing to rasp out: ''I want only that for him.''

When she passed Mrs. Cole looked to the other girl that worked there, trembling for adrenaline all while holding the baby in question: ''Well, shite, I suppose we better honour the madwoman's last wish. Tom Marvolo Riddle, then.''

''Isn't that strange?'' The other girl whispered. She looked ill to the face. Queasy by the mere sight of the woman cooling on the makeshift bed. The baby in her hands was still covered with blood and squealing for a mother that had passed away.

''Let the new family change the name. Hopefully she doesn't look like her mum none.'' Mrs. Cole fanned away. A girl with a boy’s name wasn’t the most unusual thing to have ever happened to her.

The other girl nodded and the baby began to cry now in earnest.

Mrs. Cole excused herself. She needed a cigarette after this entire ordeal – and she needed a drink. Whisky ought to do.

* * *

Tom asked Mrs. Cole why she didn't have a girl's name like all of the other girls.

Mrs. Cole didn't have enough whisky in her to be having this conversation, but she tried to the best of her ability to explain to Tom that her mother was an absolute loon in her last moments. ''It isn't nice to disrespect the recently deceased. We didn't want her coming back to haunt us from hell. She looked the circus-y sort, you know.'' A chug (not a sip, because Mrs. Cole didn't sip anything anymore). The burn meant nothing to the older woman. ''Said to name you after your father and her own.''

Tom nodded. ''And you never bothered to change it?''

''We did once. One of the benefactors wanted to name you Elizabeth, give you a proper name.''

''What happened?'' Tom wrinkled her nose. She didn’t feel like an Elizabeth.

''Satanic things started happening around you and we figured the hellspawn that is your mother returned from Hell to put is in our place.'' Mrs. Cole was a superstitious sort. Tom knew this and tended to avoid doing anything in front of her that could be called satanic or outwardly sinister. Perhaps if she had to spend time with the boys where they hit each other constantly she’d have to be more proactive. Amy Benson was a mean girl. When girls were mean they were mean in a way that was equal for all girls to be. It was psychological torture, more like. Not how the boys beat each other up.

Tom’s things began to disappear and all of the skirts she had been gifted by the older girls who had outgrown them turned to tatters as the girls snickered and called her a boy. That should have riled her up, shouldn’t it have? Tom didn’t mind being called a boy. What she did mind was being forced to sew her own clothes back together.

Amy Benson’s doll turned headless another time. It was a gift from her grandmother before she passed. The girl cried to kingdom come and back. Tom, of course, played the sympathetic friend when Mrs. Cole arrived to see what the fuss was about.

‘’What’s happened now, Amy?’’ Mrs. Cole sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and found working at an orphanage a difficult, terrible job.

‘’Tom ruined my doll, Mrs. Cole!’’ Amy wailed.

Mrs. Cole **_sighed_**. ‘’Did you do this, Tom?’’

Tom shook her head no. Tears were pricking in the corner of her eyes, on command. It was always good to know how to cry when you wanted to. ‘’N-no. I would never hurt Amy’s doll. I know ‘ow much it meant to her, I do, yes. If I had anything of my family’s I’d cherish it, Mrs. Cole.’’ She blubbered now, in tune to Amy’s crying accusations. ‘’I saw Billy around, maybe ‘e did it to pull a prank on us girls. You know how boys are mean.’’ She shook her head and pleaded to be believed, going to Amy and hugging her. ‘’Amy, I’m so sorry this happened to you. Please, believe it wasn’t me. Us girls have to stick together.’’

‘’You know,’’ Evelyn, Amy’s not so close friend, had to say, ‘’I saw Billy talking to Denis not a while ago, Mrs. Cole. Maybe they were conspiring, they were!’’

Tom looked to Evelyn and wondered what she’d want in return. Girls always wanted something in return. Ugh. Maybe she’d want Tom to sew her buttons back on her dress. Evelyn was the clumsy sort.

Amy cried so hard that she lost her wits about her and preferred being friends with the odd Tom girl than to have her as an enemy any longer. They hugged it out and Mrs. Cole sighed and went to get a switch to tan Billy’s hide with. ‘’Carry on, girls.’’

* * *

Evelyn wanted Tom to do her laundry for a month. That didn’t sound too bad.

Until she figured out why exactly Evelyn needed the help:

‘’Oh for fuck’s sake, Evelyn, did you piss your bed **_again_**.’’

‘’Shush!’’ Evelyn hissed, utterly mortified. ‘’How do you even know such language?’’

‘’I’m from Woolwich, aren’t I?’’

Evelyn had to concede that fact.

* * *

Snakes would find Tom and speak with her in the tall grass a while away from the orphanage. She and the other girls had gone there a couple of times to get away from the boys' roughhousing. Tom thought that that was the only thing she liked about being a girl – not being subjected to Billy Stubbs' scrutiny.

Boys weren't allowed to hit girls, after all. If they did, Mrs. Cole would make them go fetch a switch to beat them with. It was hard to be an orphan boy. It was hard to be an orphan girl, too. Tom thought and watched as the girls invited her to play house.

''Who's going to be the dad this time?'' Amy asked. She was the first to shout: ‘’NOT IT!’’

Evelyn and Martha surged to call NOT IT as well. This left Tom to be the dad.

‘’I mean it suits you.’’ Amy sneered cruelly. ‘’You do have a boy’s name. _Tomboy_.’’

Yet again, Tom didn’t feel that big of a deal when it came to being called a boy. Sure, it was annoying how Amy wanted to hurt her by any means, but words meant very little.

Besides, if she hurt Amy back how she wanted to (how she dreamed of doing) then Mrs. Cole might call her satanic. And then it wouldn’t be so easy to conceal her other abilities. No, Tom needed to be smart and proper and nice like all the other girls pretended to be.

‘’What does the dad do?’’

‘’Factory work?’’ Martha suggested. The girls drew from the life they knew. Boys became factory men or went into trade. Nobody from the orphanage would succeed. And the girls hoped to get married to factory men and those that went into trade (or they, themselves went into trade), but some of them worked in Soho like Billy Stubbs’ mother.

‘’I’ll be a tailor.’’ Tom said. Sewing was the only damned thing that kept her sane in this orphanage. Something about working with her hands kept her occupied and filled her with calm.

‘’Fine, I’ll be a housewife.’’ Amy said. Being a housewife was a bit of an ambition for her. She wanted to be loved and she wanted to cook and clean for her family. It was sweet. Maybe she’d luck out and get that.

Evelyn and Martha would be their kids. ‘’Are we going to continue with our last House play?’’

‘’Sure.’’ Tom said.

‘’I don’t like that one.’’ Amy said.

‘’It’s a lark and a half.’’ Evelyn said. Martha nodded.

They outvoted Amy.

She sighed. ‘’Fine, let’s play.’’

Tom pointed at Evelyn and shouted: ‘’Admit it, Amy, this one isn’t mine!’’

‘’How can you say something so cruel, Tom! Of course Evelyn is yours!’’ Amy pretend cried. ‘’Next thing you’ll say Martha isn’t yours either!’’

‘’I know Martha’s mine, she has those cow-eyes from my mother’s side of the family. But Evelyn looks like the **_neighbour_**.’’

‘’I-‘’ Amy faltered, ‘’It’s not my fault you don’t take care of me!’’

Tom fumed. ‘’Take care of you! You expect me to take care of a person who makes me out to be an idiot? Harlot!’’

Evelyn and Martha begged them not to fight.

Tom pulled Amy’s hair. She retaliated by kicking Tom in the shins and saying she would go to her mother’s and that she would take both children. ‘’Maybe if you didn’t drink so much I’d love you!’’

All in all, it was a successful play.

* * *

Evelyn got adopted. Tom never did. Not for a lack of trying, mind – but there was just something about these families that never clicked with her and she didn’t want to be called a failure to be sent back.

Martha got adopted, too. A couple of months afterwards. Tom didn’t know why anyone would want to adopt girls, weren’t boys better because they could carry the family name on? Mrs. Cole had said once that girls were just another family’s dinner. That girls were a burden.

Tom felt that someplace deep within her chest. This, she looked at herself in the mirror with her neatly combed and tied back hair, and her dress and stockings that were uniform to the rest of the girls - oh yes, all of this _did_ feel like a burden.

‘’Tooooom.’’ Amy whined.

Having to be nice to Amy, however, was an even bigger burden. The girl was beyond annoying.

* * *

‘’Tom, Tom – what do you want to be when you grow up?’’ Dreamily Amy asked. She was hugging her headless doll to her chest (the head couldn’t be found – it was like it vanished into thin air – well, actually, it _had_ vanished).

Tom was pretending to sleep.

‘’Tom!’’

Tom was pretending to _snore_.

‘’You are so see-through. I want to be like those princesses in fairytales.’’

‘’Cursed?’’ Tom giggled. Her shoulders shook at the mental image of having Amy Benson asleep for a hundred years.

‘’Nooo,’’ she whined, ‘’I want to have a prince that will come and save me.’’

Tom rather thought that being the prince and saving herself would be more useful. She didn’t say that, of course, because that was weird. And she’d used up all of her weird points when she’d broken a couple of windows as a young toddler during a temper tantrum without even touching them. Mrs. Cole had explained the phenomenon as – well, Tom really didn’t know. Mrs. Cole was really one of those types of women who were drunk and in denial. It suited Tom fine.

‘’Go to sleep, Amy.’’

‘’You’re so boring, Tom.’’

Tom really thought about setting a snake on Amy. This kind of living arrangement was proving to be horrendous.

* * *

The boys got cruel as they aged.

They laughed as Denis pushed her up against a wall and kissed her on a dare.

Tom **_screamed_**.

Because she really didn’t know what else to do in this situation.

* * *

  
_DENIS AND TOM SITTING IN A TREE_

_K I S S I N G_

Amy sang the loudest. And that was the last straw for Tom to bear.

* * *

  
Mrs. Cole said that they would be going to the beach.

Tom would get back at Denis and Amy for this. Weird points be damned. Nobody made a fool of Tom Marvolo Riddle like that.

Inside the cave Tom summoned up all of the rage that made her the person she was and taught both Amy and Denis that what they’d done wasn’t appropriate at all.

Their screams crashed against each other as Tom held them both down and pushed red sparks from her hands onto their skin. They wailed in agony. And Tom felt _right_.

* * *

Soon Dumbledore came to speak to Tom Riddle about Hogwarts. He expected a boy.

‘’So had my mother, sir.’’ Tom parried with a smile. It was the most ladylike and kind smile she could muster. Her closet was not full of stolen things because the girls _shared_. Or at least they should share because Mrs. Cole frowned upon anyone stealing from each other.

‘’Have you ever been able to do things that others couldn’t?’’

Tom knew that when people asked this they didn’t expect girls to know many things. Plus, Tom didn’t know if Dumbledore might tell Mrs. Cole the things Tom might say. She really didn’t want to get punished for things she’d done a while back.

So, she shook her head and said that the only thing she could think of was being able to sew together clothes faster than any girl.

His lips tugged into a morose, nostalgic smile. Dumbledore didn’t burn her wardrobe. Later Tom would find that Dumbledore didn’t see Tom, but a sister of his that haunted him. It was quite useful. Albeit annoying later on.

‘’I can go by myself for my supplies.’’ Tom didn’t like Dumbledore. He was odd. There was something about him that irked her.

‘’Are you sure, Miss Riddle?’’

Tom was eleven. A lot of names were tossed around, but Miss Riddle grated on her nerves the most and she didn’t know _why_.

If there were names for what she was feeling Tom wasn’t in the position to seek out answers, was she? Orphan girls and orphan boys begged for scraps and didn’t dream of more unless they were feeling naively hopeful.

But Tom Marvolo Riddle was **_magic_**. And that made all the difference.

* * *

‘’A MUDBLOOD?!’’

Walburga Black would turn out to be a deafening roommate for Tom’s seven years of Hogwarts.

‘’A BLOODY **_MUDBLOOD_**?!’’

Tom didn’t know what that meant, but there was a feeling someplace close to her chest that told her it was like calling a girl from an orphanage a whore or a bitch or a cunt. It felt like that.

‘’Wot does that mean?’’

Walburga shook with rage and entitlement. Her face grew as red as Gryffindor. Tom leaned closer and couldn’t believe the sight in front of her. ‘ _’Breathe_ , woman.’’

‘’AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!’’

The glass wall lining the inside of Slytherin’s common room **_cracked_**.

One of the upperclassmen shouted: ‘’Shite, get Slughorn before we drown.’’

* * *

The Slytherin boys were a lot less… shouty.

Still they tried to ostracize Tom due to lineage and blood, but in a less… loud… manner. For which Tom was grateful.

Another thing that needed to be addressed that Tom couldn’t quite believe was that the school uniform was the same for everyone. Well, Tom’s was more faded because it was second-hand, but both boys and girls wore the same robes with the same accessories. The snake on Tom’s badge hissed and she hissed back absentmindedly.

Abraxas Malfoy saw her hissing at a snake. Though, more importantly he saw the snake hissing back in understanding.

‘’A PARSELMOUTH?!’’

Walburga Black was not pleased.

‘’Shouldn’t you be happy to know you are not living with a mudblood, Walbie?’’ Abraxas grinned.

Walburga looked ill. ‘’But…but who will I _harass_ now…?’’

Septimus Weasley wound up make a fool of himself in front of Walburga when he tripped on his way out of the Great Hall. The sheer joy, the infatuation with the fact that she’d found a new victim – oh it could not be put into mere words. Walburga Black’s tyranny was back.

And Tom still felt nauseous whenever Dumbledore called her Miss Riddle. At first she thought that was because it was Dumbledore and he was just odd and icky and uncomfortable to look at for long because he didn’t understand much of anything outside of academia – but when Slughorn called her future Head Girl if she kept this up it didn’t fill her with as much glee as it could have.

She stared at herself in the mirror when she was twelve and wondered why she couldn’t be happy with what she had. Now, her life was much better than it was before, back in the orphanage. Still, there was a piece missing.

Not knowing who her family was probably it.

Tom went on to search out for these things in some genealogy books in the library. It was interesting to note that there were spells that helped alter one’s appearance. Tom didn’t care much about the implications this had on wills and inheritances as much as the implication that this spoke to her unlike anything else.

Ever so slowly, however, she inched towards more of these books and read and **thought**.

‘’Oh shite.’’ Tom said. He blinked. ‘ _’Fucking shite_.’’

* * *

During the summer Tom wore the girl’s clothes because that was expected.

Amy Benson feared him still. It was good that he didn’t have to remind her of her place.

Mrs. Cole called him Tom and he could only remember how his own mother had known he was a boy much before him. Now that was some hindsight.

‘’Oh wait,’’ He said on one occasion while going through the kitchen and cleaning, ‘’wait maybe _she’s_ a witch, then.’’

‘’What are you nattering about?’’ Mrs. Cole asked.

‘’Never you mind, Mrs. Cole.’’ Tom smiled. ‘’Nothing important.’’

‘’Peh.’’ She chugged whisky straight from a benefactor’s bottle.

That was where all of the money was going to. Tom scowled as he scrubbed the floor.

* * *

When Dumbledore found out that Tom was a parselmouth he began to … not like him that much anymore.

Finally. Tom thought. The prick was showing his right colours. All of that saccharine pity was getting on his nerves.

**_‘’Riddle.’’_ **

Walburga’s greetings never failed to make Tom smile.

‘’Yes, Walburga?’’

‘’Braid my hair.’’

‘’Moi? The _not_ pureblood? Touching the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’s hair?’’

‘’You do it the best now **_shut up!_** ’’

Tom laughed in her face. Still, he braided her hair. It wouldn’t do him well to make enemies of the purebloods. Especially not when he still had to deal with the potential suitors coming for him.

If only he could get someone who would understand their dynamic… that would be perfect.

* * *

Tom didn’t look at all like his mother and that was unfortunate. He’d appreciate not getting accosted in the bloody halls by people who wanted to go out with Miss Riddle, Prefect. Ugh.

He always let them down easy because that was what perfect prefect Riddle would do. ‘’You are very charming and sweet, Lestrange. You are incredibly kind, Prewett. Smith, I really cannot accept your beautiful proposal.’’

Abraxas gifted him a dictionary for his birthday and told him that he needed newer adjectives to use for his rejections. ‘’I think I have heard you say beautiful proposal three times so far. Tsk, Tsk, Tom– you need new material.’’

Tom, as a name, sounded much too plain for a boy. As a girl’s name it was all right – but seeing as Tom wasn’t a girl he needed to reinvent himself. OWL year wasn’t the best timing to attempt anything like that. But Tom never said he was any good at timing.

‘’I will keep that in mind when I shoot you down, Abraxas.’’ Tom flirted. He only did so with Abraxas. There were no chances of him flirting back and that was why he was bold enough to do so.

Well, OWL year turned out to be full of surprises – ‘’Ha, you won’t shoot me down, Tom, because you will be smitten with me by the time I finish my speech on how much of a good choice it will be to go out with me.’’

Some competent fellows looked at this flirting disaster from afar and whispered: ‘’Oof, those awkward finks suck at flirting.’’

* * *

Tom wound up going on a date with Abraxas. He really didn’t know how he’d ever let something this ridiculous happen to him.

Amy Benson would kill to have someone like Abraxas pay attention to her.

He bought Tom sweets in Hogsmeade and teased him and Tom wondered if he’d tease him with such affection if he knew that he wasn’t on a date with Miss Riddle? Probably not.

Though, a small part of Tom hoped he would. Abraxas was unlike any boy Tom had encountered. When he kissed Tom it was slow and worth savouring. It didn’t make Tom scream in horror how Denis had made him scream. Slowly Tom carded his fingers through Abraxas’ long hair. It was longer than his. There was a sudden urge to braid it that enveloped Tom and made him laugh. The strangest things popped into his head when he was letting his guard down. So far only Abraxas made such a thing possible.

‘’You are exquisite.’’

‘’Thank you.’’

What else was Tom to say to something like that, really?

Abraxas snickered. He laughed with his entire being and sounded a lot like a bird when he did so. It wasn’t a cruel laugh or a jeering sort of sound. No, it was beau – _mesmerizing_.

‘’I’m a Gaunt by birth.’’ Tom had studied where his ability to speak parseltongue would lead him. Merope Riddle nee Gaunt had died in Wool’s orphanage giving birth to a _boy_.

‘’Half Sacred Twenty-Eight.’’ Abraxas purred in his ear. His breath was hot.

Tom relished in the attention.

‘’You know, we Malfoys do not mind a few halfbloods in our family tree.’’

Tom was sixteen.

Wasn’t there a superstition about how if you didn’t marry your first proposer you’d never get married?

In the end, luckily, Abraxas didn’t ask. He only wanted to snog. Tom indulged them both.

* * *

The mage fiction books were total shite. Luckily for Tom there were a couple of muggle written book. Crime and Punishment looked interesting enough. 

* * *

While reading Abraxas’ present Tom stumbled upon the word: anagram.

It changed his life.

* * *

I am LORD Voldemort.

‘’Well if _this_ isn’t a truly proper sign that I’m a bleeding man, mum, I don’t know what is.’’

* * *

Lord Voldemort (ooh and that felt incredibly nice to say and think about and use) killed Myrtle Warren and blamed it on Hagrid.

He was sick, like Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment, and he would have gotten caught and interrogated for his crime against Myrtle were it not for Abraxas.

‘’What are you doing in the girl’s lavatory?’’ Voldemort wondered. His face was coated with sweat and his eyes, this moment, could focus on nothing other than Abraxas. He lifted him up and helped him to the Slytherin dorms.

‘’I followed you.’’

‘’A bloke can’t even go to the loo without being accosted.’’

Voldemort blamed his current state of newly-acquired immortality on his running tongue.

Abraxas didn’t mind. In fact, he looked like he understood things. ‘’Well, this bloke can’t stop looking at you Mr. Riddle.’’

‘’You’re proper obsessed with me Mr. Malfoy.’’

‘’Lord Malfoy outside of Hogwarts.’’

‘’How pleasant,’’ Voldemort was completely out of it, ‘’I happen to be a Lord as well.’’

‘’Do tell.’’

‘’Lord Voldemort,’’ Voldemort shook hands with Abraxas, who smiled at him with such genuine and unexpected affection, ‘’pleased to make your acquaintance.’’

Having dealt with that pesky fear of death by ensuring he was immortal, Voldemort didn’t nearly have as much anxiety or paranoia around him as he normally did. There was a bloody war going on in the real world thank you. Also, it helped that he finally had a proper name to call his own. All of this amounted to Voldemort asking Abraxas out. ‘’I like your face.’’

‘’Thank you, my lord.’’ Abraxas teased.

‘’I’m serious about that.’’ Voldemort noticed that they were walking through the shortcuts he’d taught Abraxas during their naughty liaisons. Smart of him to remember that these corridors didn’t have any portraits capable of telling Dippet about this grave crime Voldemort had committed.

‘’I understand.’’ Abraxas said. ‘’I know when you take the piss and when you are serious.’’

Voldemort squinted, wrinkled his face in disbelief, and shoved Abraxas away – staggering away. ‘’Stop mocking me.’’

‘’I- I am not.’’ Abraxas pulled him back again. ‘’Trust me, To –Voldemort. Is that your first name now?’’

‘’Don’t ask me about my name semantics, I am Lord Voldemort and that’s final.’’

‘’What’s your first name then?’’

Voldemort thought that he felt like slapping Abraxas in this moment. He didn’t, of course, because Abraxas was useful and Mrs. Cole had taught all of the orphans not to look the gift-horse in the mouth.

‘’You are insufferable.’’

Abraxas _beamed_.

Voldemort worried that Abraxas really knew him well enough to know that wasn’t an insult. Dear God had he actually gotten close to someone?

* * *

Voldemort woke up in Abraxas’ bed because Abraxas couldn’t take him into the girl’s dorms directly. It felt right to wake up in the boy’s dormitory.

But it felt not so right to have all of the boys staring at him like he was the odd one out. ‘’Soo,’’ Thoros Nott began, ‘’you and Abraxas then?’’

‘’We’ll marry after Hogwarts.’’ Abraxas blurted out to save face and the fact that Voldemort had killed a person. They still needed to figure out who to blame for this. To Abraxas killing a mudblood meant nothing. It was only because of that that Voldemort could still roam about freely, without fear of Abraxas ratting him out.

Hagrid took the fall. It was most unfortunate.

Miss Riddle was awarded for special services for the school.

Voldemort couldn’t wait until he finished Hogwarts.

Especially with the deal he and Abraxas struck.

* * *

‘’Lord Voldemort is a preposterous name. You are missing a surname and by marrying me you’ll not only become a proper lord, but Lord Voldemort Malfoy sounds regal. Beautiful. Wonderful. Exciting. Doesn’t it?’’

‘’In return?’’ Voldemort didn’t like to think about what he _had to_ offer Abraxas. ‘’Children?’’

Abraxas grimaced. ‘’Personally speaking, I’m not in any rush. Besides, marrying someone I prefer to the girl my parents prefer is far more preferable.’’

Voldemort knew that Abraxas got trapped doing tongue twisters when he was nervous. He cracked a small smile. ‘’You want us to cheat the system, basically. We marry so you can avoid your pureblood responsibility.’’

‘’I don’t think I like women.’’ Abraxas blurted out. ‘’Not really in the way Thoros does for example.’’

‘’Thoros fucks anything that moves, Abraxas.’’ Voldemort grimaced.

Abraxas blinked at the curse word. ‘’I do forget you have a mouth on you. Not very proper for a Lord.’’

‘’Ah, I can go out of Woolwich, but it is difficult to get the Woolwich out of me, sweet Abbie.’’

Abraxas melted at the pet name. ‘’I want you, Woolwich and all.’’

‘’How endearing.’’ Voldemort looked at his nails. They needed to be cut. It was against the dress code if he let them grow out. He looked at Abraxas and added: ‘’In return for marrying you, I want to make something perfectly clear.’’

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Under no circumstance will you force me to be Miss Riddle.’’ He said that name, that persona that he’d been forced by society to wear, with as much disdain and hatred as he could. ‘’I will play my part until we marry for the sake of your mother. I will play my role well, this I assure you. But after our vows are exchanged and we are bonded magically – I am done.’’

‘’Of course, Voldemort.’’

The tenseness around his shoulders dissipated. Voldemort smiled. ‘’Fine then.’’

‘’Just ‘fine then’,’’ Abraxas took his hand and kissed it, ‘’not very romantic. We’ll work on that future Lord Voldemort Malfoy.’’

‘’Why do I tolerate you?’’

‘’Roguish good looks? Economic security? I make you feel safe?’’ Abraxas sing-sang like the proper dork he was.

‘’Ugh my standards are so low, Amy Benson would be appalled.’’

‘’Who is Amy Benson?’’

‘’Some bint from Wool’s.’’ Voldemort disallowed Abraxas to ask another question. He pulled them into a kiss. ‘’Promise me we’ll rule the world after Hogwarts.’’

‘’I promise.’’ Abraxas whispered. ‘’I promise I’ll give you the whole world served on a silver platter for you.’’

‘’Oh,’’ it was Voldemort’s turn to speak seductively, ‘’it’s more fun to _take it_.’’

‘’I would never deprive you of your fun, my lord.’’

Voldemort really liked that. ‘’Say it again.’’

 _‘’My lord.’’_ Abraxas whispered it like a promise between them. It was the most intoxicating thing Voldemort had ever heard.


End file.
